


Ink

by FemmeSpice



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dominance, F/M, Submission, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeSpice/pseuds/FemmeSpice
Summary: A brief drabble about Harley's tattoos.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Kudos: 21





	Ink

The first one she had laughed at. Shyly, like a schoolgirl. He smiled at her and held her hand through it and fucked her after when the pain turned her on. 

The second one she’d laughed at again. Nervously once she realized he wasn’t joking. He had gotten that dark look in his eye she had learned meant he was deadly serious. And the only thing worse than not getting the joke was laughing when he didn’t want you to.

That one was on her chest. Daddy’s Littlel Monster. A pet name he’d stuck with. Harley hadn’t ever had a Daddy before. At least not in that sense. But calling him that felt natural. Exactly right. Of course, she agreed. It belonged above her heart. Or as close as it could get considering she had tits, the artist managed to convince them. 

Harley had laid on the table and J had stood over her, holding her down even though she wasn't going anywhere.  
“How’s that feel, baby?”  
“Gooooood, Daddy,” she cooed at him, words slurring from whatever he had given her earlier. Something for the pain from the night before. The cause of which she was already shutting out of her mind. It was bad. And bad things didn’t happen to Daddy’s Little Monster. The good pain, the soft scratching feel of her skin changing forever (and ever and ever just as it had been since she jumped in those chemicals) and the feel of his hand holding hers carried her away.

It was a small thing but it was another freedom he had given her. She didn’t have to look ‘professional’ anymore. Didn’t have to worry about showing off her skin or what she did to that skin. It was hers. Well, hers and his. The more tattoos they took her in for, the less question there was of who Harley Quinn belonged to. He held her through them, even the ones that didn’t hurt so bad. And because his touch never failed to arouse her, she developed a pavlovian response to the buzz buzz of a tattoo needle. She couldn’t hear it without feeling a tingle between her legs. And when she got to feel it? Ecstasy. 

Some of the later ones were his idea but eventually she would greet him at the club and show him a new one, still bleeding under the sanitary wrapping, delighting in how he smiled at her for her creativity and loyalty. Some men marked their women with scars or wedding rings but these two wrote their love in permanent ink along Harley’s flesh. 

Sometimes, in their more tender moments, they would lie in bed together while he lazily traced his fingers along each one. J would read the words out loud until his hand slipped between her thighs and he would whisper ‘mine’ over and over again while Harley smiled.

After date night, after the car crash, she’d had a brief stint in Arkham. It was deemed too close to home and so she was taken away. In the early days they let her have things. Things that were later seen as ‘dangerous’ and ‘liabilities’. She’d been hopeful at first, smug even, that J would bust her out in no time. But he didn’t. And then they moved her and she wasn’t sure he’d know where. Harley passed her time writing nonsense while her system cleared of his drugs and filled up with theirs. She missed him and none of them cared. The guards would roll their eyes or snicker or ignore her outright. None of them knew what love was even when her skin was covered in it. 

Well. Not quite covered.

She made the buzzing herself as she poked the hot needle into her skin over and over and over, spelling out unread love letters and promises to her Daddy. Her wishes. Her simple truth. 

It was a small thing but when she did it she swore she could feel him holding her.


End file.
